When Hope is Lost
by Lady Jaina
Summary: Aragorn goes hunting to clear his head and finds himself battling a worsening illness when he meets an elf named Legolas. Together they fight off rain and orcs as they head for Rivendell. *Revised and Complete*
1. Hunting Trip

When Hope Is Lost

A/N: The story's timeline is pre-FOTR and just after the death of Aragorn's mother. He hasn't yet met Legolas. This story is slightly AU, thought I have tried to remain true to the original story.

Disclaimer-I can't lay claim to any of these characters, they all belong to the great master of fantasy, JRR Tolkein

Chapter One-Hunting Trip

Aragorn had to get away. After his mother's death he had thrown himself into the grueling training to become a Ranger. Over time, he had become numb to grief, but the training had broken his spirit. Elrond had been almost relieved when his adopted son had asked for leave to go hunting. The Lord of Rivendell gave Aragorn leave with his blessing. He hoped that his beloved Estel would benefit from this holiday, and, sensing that the young heir of Isildur wished to be alone, he prevented the twins from going with him.

So, Aragorn, armed with his sword and bow, set out on foot from his home to go hunting, though more for the purpose of clearing his crowded mind than for the game he would catch. For the first time in his short life, he was glad he was not an elf, for they could never forget what they experienced. He wanted to forget. He wanted the memories to grow dull and fade away.

His mind wandered back to the rangers he often hunted alongside. He hadn't yet become one of them, though they had given him the nickname Strider, and the name suited him better than Aragorn, than name of his birth, or Estel, the name Elrond had given him. If death was all that being an heir to the throne of Gondor brought him, then he wanted no part of it. Yet he didn't belong with the elves, either. He would die one day, and they would live on. He hoped that the nickname marked the beginning of the Rangers' accepting of him.

He shifted his arms and winced, scowling as he discovered he was very sore and achy, but he dismissed the pain from his mind. He had been using his sword more than usual lately.


	2. The Prince of Mirkwood

Chapter Two-The Prince of Mirkwood

Aragorn tracked a pack of deer for several days, but soon found that he could not keep up. His sudden lack of finesse wasn't helping his presence remain undetected. At first, he blamed it on lack of experience hunting, despite knowing his hunting skills weren't at fault. Next, he convinced himself that he had been overexerting himself lately, but he knew the real reason. He was coming down with a cold. Any thoughts he had had about being glad he wasn't an elf were quickly banished. He hated being sick. Elrond still thought of him as a child and being sick so frequently did not help his goal of getting his father to stop hovering. Thankfully, the cold was nothing more than an occasional cough or sneeze and a dull headache, nothing he couldn't push past.

The sun hadn't even set when Aragorn bedded down in exhaustion for the night just off the main path, satisfied that the brush would hide him from plain sight. He did not sleep well, as the night air worsened his cough, but he still managed to sleep in brief periods. It was during one of these periods that he was spotted by a messenger from Mirkwood.

Legolas, the youngest prince of Mirkwood was on his way back from Lothlorien after giving Celeborn a message from his father and engaging in a short archery contest with his dear friend Haldir. Despite being lost in his thoughts, he still managed to notice the young man sleeping on the forest floor before he could trip over him. He had to shake is head at the lunacy of a man sleeping unsheltered on the forest floor.

When the man coughed suddenly in his sleep, the elf frowned. This was not right. He would wait for the man to rouse, assess his condition, and then give him a sound lecture about protecting his fragile health. While waiting for the man to wake up, his eyes carefully scrutinized the tall, young man, and he realized with a start who he beheld. The man coughed again and turned over, mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

* * *

The sun had just begun to rise when Aragorn began to rouse. He sat up slowly, feeling as though his head was stuffed with cotton. His eyes rebelled against the harsh sunlight, so he was startled when a smooth voice greeted him in elvish, "Good morning, Estel, son of Elrond."

The ranger-in-training turned to see a slender blond elf leaning casually against a tree, watching him closely. "How do you know my name? Who are you?" These questions were not asked lightly.

The elf smiled slightly at how slow the man was in placing his hand on his sword hilt, "The elves of my kingdom have often visited Rivendell. I saw you from a distance practicing with the rangers, and Lord Elrond told me of your past. As for me, I am Legolas, son of Thranduil." The ranger coughed again and Legolas looked at him in concern, all mirth over slow humans abandoned, "Estel, are you ill?"

Aragorn glared at the stranger who spoke so familiarly to him and said through clenched teeth, "Do not call me Estel."

Legolas looked at him in surprise, "You are the hope of your people, for which reason you have been given that name."

"I do not wish to be the hope of my people. The ways of Gondor only bring death and corruption. Furthermore, you speak as though you know me, but you only know of me."

"So do many of the ways of elves, and I apologize for my familiarity."

Aragorn laughed dryly, "What do you know of death? Elves are immortal."

The prince of Mirkwood fell silent, then at last answered, "You are right, and it is not my place to judge what you do. If you do not wish to be called Estel, I will call you Aragorn, for you are Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

A look of pain and grief crossed the young ranger's features, and he spat, "Do not speak that name." Softer, he said, "I could not bear it." At last he spoke up. "Call me Strider, for that is what I will be called by many in the days to come."

Legolas took a gamble, he desperately wanted to befriend the ranger if only out of concern for his health, but he also knew that if the man was allowed, he would never again claim to be his father's son. Slowly, he said, "That I cannot do. I will call you Aragorn or Estel, but please, for the moment, I wish to call you friend. Where do you journey?"

The ranger did not smile, nor did he look up, but he answered, "I am on a hunting trip. I may go near the Shire, but that is for the deer to decide."

"Then I will join you." Legolas said quietly. It was an offer, not a statement.

Aragorn was less than thrilled, and he said bitterly, "I wish to be alone!"

"Two are better than one on a hunt."

Aragorn turned to see the elf smirking. He couldn't argue.


	3. Weariness and Watchfulness

Chapter Three-Weariness and Watchfulness

Aragorn's hunt continued, this time under the watchful eye of a blond elf who clearly wouldn't take the hint that the young man wished to be alone. His increasingly irritated throat wasn't helping his hunt or his goal of getting the strange elf to go in another direction. A particularly forceful fit of hacking seized him, and he paused until it passed.

Concerned, Legolas asked, "Are you well, Aragorn?" To his relief the ranger did not protest the voicing of his name.

"I am fine, just tired. I have been more active than usual."

"You sound as though you are becoming ill."

Aragorn snorted. Most elves knew little about sickness, as they never got sick. They always tended to overreact. He shrugged his own worry off, "We shall soon see."

"Perhaps I should escort you back to Rivendell?" Legolas asked cautiously.

Aragorn sighed, "I just made your acquaintance. Don't you think you should withhold your opinion until it is more obviously needed? Now, I'm going to continue hunting, probably around the borders of the Shire."

Legolas frowned, "I don't advise it. They just had an outbreak of influenza in Buckland, near the Baranduin. You might contract it, especially if you are already ill."

"I won't be journeying that near to Buckland, and there you go again with the opinions. I've probably already had the influenza before anyway, as often as I get sick."

His words didn't reassure the elf, who knew little about the common cold, much less the dreaded and deadly influenza. He found this man young and foolhardy. When they had first met, Legolas had thought the Ranger boring and stand-offish. Little did he know Aragorn had thought much the same of him, except Aragorn would probably describe the elf as boring and nosy. Though Aragorn said little, Legolas found that he underneath his evasive mask he was friendly and that, despite appearing quite reckless, he was in truth a very skilled young man. The elf was, however, worried about his new friend, whose cough had grown worse. The Ranger appeared to be very tired, and his voice was gravelly when he spoke.

When they stopped for the night, Legolas finally voiced what was on his mind, "Aragorn, you are indeed becoming more ill! Why don't we both turn back and head for Rivendell tomorrow?"

Aragorn brushed off his remarks, glared, and told him, "It is only a slight cold. I shall be fine in the morning. I was actually starting enjoy hunting with you, but there you go again with that overprotective elf mind of yours."

Legolas doubted he was being overprotective, but understood why Aragorn did not wish to return home yet, the same reason he himself had jumped at the chance to stay away from home a little longer.

* * *

True to his word, Aragorn appeared to be much improved the next morning, and they pressed on with haste, following the deer. Legolas wondered why Aragorn did not kill the deer he wanted now instead of following a small pack of them which he could easily loose. The Ranger seemed to read his mind, for he said, "The deer near the Shire are more plentiful. I do not wish to kill the few deer that remain in these parts. I hope that you do not mind the trip."

Legolas smiled, "I never tire of hunting. I am happy to join you."

Aragorn laughed and Legolas saw that there was a completely different side of Aragorn once he dropped his guard. This man could prove to be a fun and useful companion. He was glad they had finally had the opportunity to meet.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, Aragorn felt that he was tiring. Though he was frustrated, he knew now that he was becoming ill, though he still hoped that it was nothing more than a mild cold. For this reason, he decided to hide his weariness from the elf.

Legolas, however, was not so easily fooled. Though he kept silent, he observed that the Ranger's weariness heightened with each step, and his cough was becoming more frequent. They seemed to walk on and on, but late in the afternoon Aragorn seemed he could proceed no further and at last stumbled slightly.

Legolas eyed him warily and said lightly, "Watch yourself! Perhaps we should stop for a rest, I am weary."

Aragorn sank into a sitting position with a glare, "I live among elves. They do not tire more quickly than I. Nice try."

Legolas was finally able to meet his gaze and saw that the Ranger's eyes were glassy and tired. With concern, he moved closer to the Ranger and quickly, before the man could move away, laid a gentle hand on his forehead.

The Ranger flinched and jerked away, "Your hands are cold."

"And your skin burns with a fever! You most definitely are ill. You should have told me! I think we should head back for Rivendell before your condition worsens."

Aragorn shook his head violently, "No!" He lightened his voice, "Not yet. I will be fine if the weather holds out and we take a slower pace! Is your only solution to a cold taking me back to my father?"

Legolas ignored him, and instead stood and gazed for a long while at the distant sky. Finally, he said, "There are clouds in the distance. Whether they bring rain or not, I do not know."

"Rain hasn't arrived yet and until it does we shall continue our hunt-after I rest a bit." Aragorn leaned against a convenient tree trunk. His eyes closed immediately as comforting blackness swirled around him.

Legolas gazed at him worriedly, then muttered, "Intolerable man! Doesn't know what is good for him."

Soon, however, their situation became worse. Legolas was in deep meditation when he felt a drop of rain land on his nose. The sky had grown dark, and it was very windy. The elf-prince jumped up and went to the Ranger's side. He was warm from a slight fever, but seemed fine.

Legolas shook him awake, "Aragorn! We must find shelter, I fear we are in for a downpour!"

Aragorn wearily got to his feet as the sprinkles began to turn to small drops of rain. "I know of a small hobbit family that lives not far from here. If we hurry, we may be able to make it to their home."

Legolas immediately set a fast pace and Aragorn followed him as fast as he could. Soon a small hut came into view in the distance. The Ranger frowned when he saw that no lights shone from within. When they reached the door, no one answered. "Perhaps they have moved closer to the Shire?" Legolas suggested.

"That is possible, but unlikely." Aragorn replied as he tried the round door. It was not locked.

The Ranger went in first, and the elf followed closely behind. What they saw stopped them in their tracks. The young man sucked in a breath and said in anguish as Legolas averted his eyes, "Oh, sweet Elbereth! Influenza!"


	4. Influenza

Chapter Four-Influenza

The stench that filled the small hut was terrible, especially to the elf's keen senses. He knew that smell. He wished he could forget the smell.

Aragorn started forward, "I must try to help them," he murmured.

Legolas' eyes widened in panic, "No! You cannot afford to risk further illness. I fear they are beyond our aid."

"I have to try, I owe it to them. What if one still lives? Surely the whole family can't be dead! I can't just leave them!"

"Then please," Legolas pleaded, "Let me! I'm much less likely to contract anything than you." But the young Ranger paid him no heed, for he had seen the form of a young hobbit child collapsed on the floor.

He ran to her side and lifted the babe into his arms. She was cold and stiff. Setting his jaw, Aragorn laid the hobbit child on the empty bed and covered her body with a sheet.

"You should not have done that my friend." Legolas said quietly.

The Ranger shook his head, "She was just a child, and I could do nothing to help her."

"Be comforted, she is reunited with her parents." Aragorn followed the elf's gaze into the joining room and shuddered.

At last, he managed, "We should bury them."

Legolas could see the pain in his new friend's eyes, but forced himself to say, "If we do, we will have to wait for the rain to stop, and that may be days. You are weary and already becoming ill. I think that it would be best to return to Rivendell."

"It is raining like crazy out there, even I, stubborn as I am know better than to go traipsing through the rain when I am half sick."

"I know little of influenza, Aragorn, but I fear for your life. I do not want to choose illness, but I fear that if you become ill with influenza because we stayed here to wait out the rain, I will not be able to get you to your father in time. I can only hope that the rain will not make you more ill, my friend."

Moved by his new friend's words, Aragorn finally agreed that returning to Rivendell would be best. At the worried look on the elf's face, Aragorn assured him, "I shall be dry enough."

Legolas was not convinced, "You are already ill, though returning is our best course of action, the rain could make your illness go to your lungs. And if you have influenza…"

Aragorn chuckled, wanting to laugh but holding back a cough before conceding, "A moment ago it was you who was persuading me. You were right to begin with, and if we had turned back earlier like you suggested, we would not have this problem. We can only hope for the rain to let up, because you and I both know that if I remain here I will most definitely become ill."

Legolas didn't voice his thoughts, but in his mind he knew that there was little chance now that the ranger could avoid contracting the deadly illness. At last he sighed and said, "I can see no alternative."

Aragorn merely nodded. Even before they stepped out of the door, he could feel the cold, wet rain. This would not be a pleasant journey.

* * *

Despite the fact Aragorn had promised to try to stay dry, his clothes were soaked though and his teeth had long since begun to chatter. He knew that the elf was watching his every move and did his best to appear strong and act as though the rain didn't bother him.

The elf was indeed watching him. The rain made him uncomfortable and weighed him down, but nothing more. They had been walking for hours now and every few minutes the young man would cough. Now the random coughs turned to coughing fits, and Legolas became greatly concerned. He knew that the man was indeed becoming very ill and prayed that they would make it to Rivendell in time. A sick mortal need to be warm and dry, not dripping wet, and the elf-prince was quite frustrated at his helplessness, and Aragorn even more so.

Legolas began to feel a shadow growing around them, as well as approaching danger. He groaned inwardly. Of course, everything was going to get worse.


	5. Orcs

Chapter Five-Orcs

The rain continued to pour, and Legolas' uneasiness continued to increase. The shadow continued to grow in his mind, but they had no time to stop. He, a brave and immortal prince of Mirkwood, was actually scared. Not of orcs, or whatever hunted them, but of death. Not his death, but his new friend's.

He wondered if Aragorn would even make it to Rivendell. His hacking cough had grown much worse, to the point where he had to gasp for air. Legolas could see that Aragorn was weary and cold. When the young ranger stumbled, the elf finally said, "Aragorn, let's stop and rest by these trees for a moment. I fear you are becoming gravely ill."

Aragorn offered no protest, and this worried Legolas even more. Suddenly, the elf felt a prickling sensation and pushed Aragorn to the ground a split second before a large, black, feathered arrow whizzed by.

Even before he turned, he knew what surrounded them, the foulest creatures he had ever had the displeasure to meet: orcs. There was a fairly large group of them, and Legolas soon realized in disgust that his choice weapon would be of little use. Just to please himself, he notched a few arrows before switching to his twin knives. The battle was fierce, and unevenly matched.

A rather dazed Aragorn watched the scene with mixed feelings of fear and curiosity over the elf's abilities. When at last his mind finally comprehended what his eyes were seeing, the young ranger gasped in horror. No matter how ill he was or how talented his friend appeared to be, he refused to let his friend fight alone. Barely able to stand, much less hold up his heavy sword, he almost didn't make it to his feet. He didn't trust his bleary eyes to aim true with bow and arrow, so he forced his body to obey.

Together, the elf and the ranger fought side by side, somehow feeling that if they survived it wouldn't be the last fight fought together. It was as though an invisible line had been drawn. Any orc that crossed a certain point was killed instantly as they worked in tandem.

When the last orc lay slain at his feet, Aragorn at last surrendered to the darkness that had long been threatening to overcome him. With a cry, Legolas was at his side in an instant and eased him to the ground.

After a moment, he said in soft Sindarin, "Sleep Aragorn. You have been through much and need your rest." He carefully looked over his friend. He himself had passed through the skirmish unscathed thanks in part to his reflexes and in part to his friend's aid. He hoped it was the same with his human companion. Unfortunately, this was not so, for the elf's eyes widened when he saw a large gash in the ranger's side. "Oh, Elbereth," the elf murmured, "This bodes not well. He cannot fight both poison and sickness. Please don't let their weapon be poisoned."

A musical elvish voice startled him out of his reverie.

"Legolas Greenleaf. It has been long since you have journeyed near Rivendell."

"It certainly has. I believe we were only 500 then." Another voice chimed in.

Legolas brightened considerably when he saw who stood before him. He earnestly exclaimed, "Elladan! Elrohir! Well met! Am I ever glad to see you!"

"And I you!" Elladan said, then, not recognizing his brother, he gestured to the still form and the orc corpses surrounding them, "What happened? Who is your companion?"

"Is he wounded?" Elrohir asked with concern.

Legolas looked at him with unmasked surprise, "He is wounded, but that is not what worries me most. He is very ill. I am surprised you did not recognize him."

Elrohir stepped closer to peer at the man and gasped, "Elladan, you had better come over here."

Elladan did so quickly and gasped also, seeing how the illness had changed his brother's features, "Estel! What has happened to you?"

The ranger groaned at the familiar voice, but he could not wake, though he tried.

The rain seemed to come down even harder as Elladan knelt down and placed a hand on his brother's brow. "He is burning up, Elrohir. We must get him to father. You are lucky we were hunting today, and that we do not mind the rain."

"It was more than luck. Do you have your stallions? This rain is worsening Aragorn's condition. I do, however, have one question I am sure your brother would wish me ask. Are their any other humans, especially children staying at Rivendell?"

"Yes. Aragorn knows this. Two or three orphans. Why do you ask?" Elrohir answered with a frown.

Legolas sighed, "I fear he has influenza. We found…"

Elladan cut him off with a horrified stare, "We have no time to lose. Elrohir, go find the horses. We'll have to double up on horseback. We will have to risk the orphans, though Estel would not wish it. Worse will happen if Estel dies." His voice trembled and was full of a fear uncharacteristic of an elf.

Elrohir quickly returned, gently, though quickly leading two gray stallions by the reins.

Legolas easily carried Aragorn to the horse and mounted behind him. He didn't bother to ask if he could see to Aragorn. He didn't even wait for the twins to mount before he spurred the horse on. They could be angry with him later. Only then did Elladan and Elrohir realize how grave the situation was. They looked at each other raced to close the distance between themselves and their brother.

* * *

As the woods of Rivendell came into site, Legolas sighed with relief and shook Aragorn awake.

"Friend, we are near Rivendell. How do you feel?"

After a long silence, a slightly slurred reply was given, "Terrible…my side…" The elf felt his friend go limp once again as he once again welcomed a numb sleep.


	6. Ill Tidings

Chapter Six-Ill Tidings

Legolas stopped the horse and listened. He knew the Imladris guards were surrounding him, and he worried that he was losing precious time. Hearing hoof-beats, he turned and saw Elladan and Elrohir guide their horse toward him. They looked rather worried, mixed in with annoyance at Legolas' abrupt departure. Fortunately, they said nothing about the previous events. Hearing Aragorn's labored breathing, Elrohir said, "We will ride ahead so father will be ready. The guards will not hinder you." With this, the twins galloped off with Legolas trailing behind them.

He was truly concerned about his friend's condition, even more so now that the ranger had ceased to cough or even move. The Last Homely House at last came into sight and a small group dashed out to meet them. Elrond led them, followed by a strange man in a pointy hat as well as the twins, an elf maid, and an unusual creature with large hairy feet that the prince recognized as a hobbit.

Elrond gently lowered his foster son to the ground, his eyebrows knitting together with worry. "He is burning up, and his breath is forced and rattles in his chest." With these words, the elf-lord lifted his son and bore him quickly into his grand house.

Legolas followed, feeling rather unneeded and out of place now that his ultimate task was complete. He had gotten Aragorn to Rivendell, but he would not leave until he saw him well again. Elrond wouldn't turn him away, not when he'd been pleading with his father to visit for so long.

Elrond laid Aragorn on a fluffy bed and began barking orders, "I need a pitcher of cool water, blankets, dry cloths, and some smelling salts." There was a flurry of activity, but Legolas remained where he was.

When the room quieted, he said, "The twins tell me there are orphans here. I would have them sent away. He is very contagious to them, as well as your hobbit friend."

Elrond sighed, "I know, Prince Legolas. It is influenza, is it not? I know little of the illness, though the Istari you saw may be able to help some when he returns."

"Yes," Legolas replied softly, "He was already ill with something ordinary, then the influenza…and the rain. We got into a slight skirmish also-with orcs. He has a gash in his side. It's not serious, though I fear it may be poisoned."

"We need to get him out of these wet clothes, though I fear from his wheezing his sickness has already gone into his lungs. Then perhaps I will tend to his hurts." Inwardly, he wondered how Estel always managed to get himself into so much trouble. Never before had he seen so many hurts that could prove fatal on a single person. It pained him that that person was his son.

The others returned, all but the wizard, and Elrond began his work. With help from Legolas and the twins, Aragorn was quickly dried and clothed in a linen nightshirt. When the smelling salts were placed under the Ranger's nose, the elf-maid fled from the room in tears and her brothers followed to console her. The hobbit shrank into the corner, then left also. Aragorn hadn't even stirred.

Elrond had so hoped that they would start a coughing fit, but his son hadn't even moved. Sighing, the elf-lord laid a hand over his son's heart and softly spoke in Sindarin, "Estel, my son, come back to us. It is not your time. I wish I could let you rest, but you must fight now."

The elf prince was surprised to see the ranger's eyes flutter open and dashed over with some water, having an idea. "Pour this down his throat."

Seeing what he had in mind, the Lord of Rivendell did so. The idea worked, perhaps more than Elrond and Legolas had thought. Aragorn's body was wracked with a coughing fit for the better part of an hour as he strangled and wretched repeatedly, all the while struggling to catch his breath. The ranger was disoriented and burning with fever as his father and friend supported him throughout the never-ending coughing fit. At last he collapsed and Elrond barely managed to catch him before he hit the stone floor.

"I hope he got most of the fluid up. Mithrandir is preparing a serum that should aid his recovery, but for now, he's on his own."

Legolas was startled when Elrond continued, "I had so hoped he would return unscathed. If I hadn't let him go, then perhaps his condition would not be so grave. He is the hope of his people, and they can't lose him…I can't lose him."

"Nor can I," a melodic voice at the door interrupted.

At this Elrond's expression hardened, "Undomiel. We have been through this before. You are immortal, he is mortal, regardless of his bloodlines. Try to let him go."

Arwen appeared furious, "How can you say that father? Though you may deny it, he is the one I have chosen. Letting him go in my heart is no different to me than letting him die. I am staying here. I want to be here when he wakes."

Legolas was struck by Elrond's expression then; he almost appeared crushed by what his daughter had said. The elf prince wondered if he should leave them, but it was Elrond who left. The elf thought he saw a tear trickle down the elf lord's cheek as he made an attempt to compose himself as he left the room.

* * *

"What have I done? How could I say such a thing? How could I even suggest her giving up on him? Why did I remind my daughter and myself of Estel's mortality, especially with his life in the balance."

Hearing a noise in the corridor, Elrond looked up, slightly horrified that anyone had seen him like this. He had never felt grief like this before, it was as though he had already lost Estel. An arm was placed around his shoulder and he allowed himself to sob quietly into the gray robe. He didn't feel very lordly. He felt the weight of Middle Earth on his shoulders.

"Lord Elrond, it is no fault of yours, and I can see why you may disapprove of their young love, but have faith Estel will heal."

"I wish desperately that it were true. He'll survive the lung infection, yes, but the influenza, I am not so sure. In addition to that, both the son of Thranduil and I fear poison flows in his veins. There is much for his frail body to overcome."

The gray-robed wizard forced the elf-lord to look at him, "You must have faith, my friend. He is mortal yes, but he has more strength than many give him credit for. He has a strength you and I, as immortals, cannot have. He has passion, and feeling. You have seen him gravely injured many times before, but he has always recovered. His will to live will yet again overcome the calling to die."

Elrond turned away. "How can you have such faith while I doubt his strength so? I have never felt so helpless. I know little of human illnesses, less even than you. I wish I could understand. Gandalf, why do I fear so?"

"You must learn to have hope. Legolas hopes, Arwen hopes, we all hope. You yourself gave him that name. Do not lose the hope you had when you first took him as your son. Have faith in him."

Elrond managed a tight-lipped smile. "You are right, Gandalf. I shall try. By Elbereth, I shall try."


	7. Bilbo

Chapter Seven-Bilbo

The night held much fear for those who dwelled in Imladris. News had quickly spread of Aragorn's illness and anyone who could become sick was kept isolated, with the exception of one very curious hobbit. Legolas kept watch over Aragorn for the better part of the night while Elrond and Mithrandir talked and checked on Aragorn occasionally. He was surprised to find himself unnaturally unfocused, and his mind began to wander. No sooner had he gotten comfortable than he saw out of the corner of his eye the little man he had seen earlier. The hobbit looked around and stepped almost soundlessly into the room.

The elf pretended to be "sleeping" and watched in amusement as the hobbit scurried over to the bed and climbed on top. He listened quietly to the young ranger's breathing. It was harsh and fast. Even Legolas frowned at this. He pitied the hobbit, who sighed and said softly, "Oh Aragorn. You simply must get well. Lord Elrond will never forgive himself if you die, and Lady Arwen will lose that gentle spark she has. Do try to heal-you have so much to live for."

Legolas continued to watch, knowing the halfing would notice him soon. At last he could contain himself no longer. Gently, he said, "You should not be here, Master Hobbit."

The halfling jumped and stifled a small cry. At last he managed, "Who are you?"

The elf laughed softly, "I am called Legolas Greenleaf, though I might ask the same of you."

"Bilbo Baggins, at your service." Then he began to ramble. "I wouldn't have come, but Lord Elrond, I've never seen him like that. Even he doesn't know how this will end. I had to see him...you understand."

"I do. Aragorn and I have become friends over the last few days, and I have no desire to see him dead. I would like to get to know him further." At this the hobbit flinched but quickly recovered.

"Why do you called him Aragorn and not Estel like the others."

Legolas shrugged and bend down so he was level with the hobbit, "He didn't wish for me to call him hope. He has had a rough life."

"He must face up to his destiny." Bilbo said gently.

"He must find a desire to live first," Legolas countered, looking back at his friend. "He would be glad to know you came, but it would kill him if you became ill."

Bilbo sighed, "I know. But the things we do with our life cannot always be centered upon what is safe or fair. We must take a few risks if we are to live life to the fullest. Aragorn taught me that." With those words, he left the room, leaving the elf in silent thought.

* * *

Elrond was distraught. For hours he and Gandalf had poured over vast books and encyclopedias looking for a treatment to an illness they knew little about. Even the wizard, who was older than he, could only offer words of comfort. In short, there was nothing he could do but wait. He could feel the atmosphere in Rivendell. The fear and grief were almost palpable. He could feel the pain. Sighing, he lowered his head and massaged his temples.

Gandalf watched him closely from the other side of the room. He knew then that if Estel died, it would destroy the Elven lord.

* * *

For the first time since Estel had come to Rivendell, Arwen felt alone. Aragorn had been gravely ill and injured before, and she had a terrible time wrestling with her feelings. She could not justify them. She sensed the great danger Estel was in and was helpless to do anything about it. Struck with a sudden determination to at least be near him, she put on a robe and hurried softly down the corridor to his room. Even from outside the door, she could hear his ragged breathing. This reassured her, but in her heart, she knew something was terribly wrong. If this was the calm before the storm, she wondered what the storm would be like.


	8. The Storm Begins

Chapter 8-The Storm Begins

While Gandalf helped Elrond sort out his troubles, everyone else who dwelled in Rivendell tried to sort out their own. Arwen hesitated outside Estel's room, but fled silently when the doorknob turned and Bilbo stepped out of the room. The hobbit had already seen her.

"Lady Arwen?"

"Master Baggins. Please-tell me of Estel."

Bilbo sighed, "He sleeps peacefully, for how long I do not know. A young elf that goes by the name of Legolas is watching him."

"Why do you expose yourself to his illness? If you would take the advice of a young elf, you should return to your home."

"I came here to get away from this illness, but I will not hide from it. It is sad, I have only just met Aragorn and now he has fallen ill with the very thing that caused Gandalf to make me leave the Shire."

"Gandalf?"

"Yes, yes-the wizard. I think you call him something or other…let's see…starts with an M…oh, blast it all."

"Mithrandir?" Arwen supplied helpfully, her burden lifting by just speaking with the young hobbit.

"Yes,yes, that's right-I remember now. Would you like to see Aragorn?"

Arwen smiled but shook her head, "Prince Legolas will watch over him-it would pain me too much to see him helpless."

"P-prince. Oh my, how could I have been so ignorant? Fancy that, right there in the room with Thranduil's son. I should have known!"

Arwen laughed lightly, but sobered quickly when she glanced toward Estel's door. "Come, Master Baggins, shall we continue our conversation in the library? Talking with you brightens my spirits."

The hobbit bowed, "Bilbo Baggins at your service, Lady Evenstar." He proudly led her down the corridor rambling cheerfully.

* * *

Legolas, meanwhile, was dealing with his own troubles. The hobbit's presence had lightened his heart for a time, but his worries quickly returned in Bilbo's absence. It pained him to watch his new friend suffer and almost helplessly fight such a grave illness. He hated the fact that he himself could do nothing to aid him. Even Elrond and Mithrandir could do little. Wringing out a cool compress into a nearby basin, the elf placed it on the young ranger's feverish brow. Occasionally, Estel would cough or moan in his sleep, but for the most part, he remained silent and still, which scared the elf more than anything else. He could only pray to the Valar that he had strength enough to fight death.

Illness was so strange to him, though with the influenza outbreak, he had begun to see more than he had in his entire life. His thoughts were interrupted when Aragorn stirred briefly, opening glazed, unseeing eyes. "Ada…ada…"*

Legolas brushed a stray hair from the ranger's forehead. "Shh, nin mellon."** Estel seemed to fall back into sleep, and the elf-prince took the opportunity to seek out the ranger's father.

Slipping from the room, Legolas spotted Arwen and Bilbo walking quietly. He was glad he was going in the opposite direction. He didn't want to worry them unless there was good cause. It wasn't hard to locate Elrond's study, and the elf found himself standing hesitantly outside the door. Swallowing hard, he knocked quietly. When Elrond saw who it was, the color drained from his face. The first thought that went through his head was that Estel was dead. Mithrandir strode to his side quickly.

Seeing Lord Elrond's worry, Legolas quickly said, "Aragorn is sleeping, but he called for you. I believe he would rest easier in your presence."

"Of course. I imagine he is delirious by now. Oh, by the Valar, I wish I could help."

Legolas was slightly shocked when the Elven Lord rushed past him and went to tend to his son.

Mithrandir remained behind and murmured softly, "It will destroy him if Aragorn dies. Come, let us talk." The elf obeyed mechanically.

"You see, when Elrond took Estel in, it was his duty to protect him from evil until he could take the throne of Gondor. For this reason, he was named Estel-hope. He was the last hope of his kingdom. Elrond allowed his feelings to get in the way. He came to love Aragorn as a son. Now he is afraid, not only for Estel's life, but that the hope of Gondor will die. Estel and the kingdom go hand in hand.

"In the beginning, Elrond was merely a guardian. Now he sees himself as a father as well. It will tear him apart if Estel does not heal."

Legolas accepted this news in silence.

* * *

Lord Elrond was startled when he entered the room. He didn't know what he had expected to find, but it was not what he saw. Aragorn lay still and limp on the bed as Legolas had left him, but his face was pale and gray. Elrond knew he wasn't getting enough air, or getting any better. He sensed something else was wrong, other than the illness. Frowning, he looked over his son carefully. He cursed when he found the problem. How could he have forgotten the orc scratch on Estel's side? He had seen enough cases of orc poisoning that he should have spotted it right away, but he hadn't. Now, he knew, it might be too late. His emotions were impeding his judgment.

Elrond laid a hand a Estel's forehead, "Come back to me my son. You can fight this, you must." The young ranger did not move. The elf hung his head in despair, then snapped his head back up. Aragorn wasn't moving at all, the raspy breathing had stopped. The room was silent. The elf lord was nearly beside himself and forced his hands to work while yelling for help, hoping that someone would hear. His efforts proved futile. Estel was drowning as his lungs were almost completely filled with fluid, and Elrond alone could do nothing but watch in horror."

* * *

*-Father

**-my friend


	9. Come Back to Us

(A/N: Please note that any medical treatments in this chapter are fictional and should not be tried at home)

Chapter 9-Come Back to Us

It was Elladan who first heard his father's cry, it was he who raced frantically to Estel's bedroom, followed closely by his twin brother. What he saw reminded him of a nightmare he had once had when he was small. His father's tears and frantic sobs startled him out of his daze and he and his brother knelt next to their father. Elrohir found his voice first, "We are here father, what can we do."

It took Elrond a minute to find his voice, but a terrified Elrohir cried out, "He isn't breathing, we must get the fluid out of his lungs." The three elves hoisted the limp ranger to his feet and began pounding on his back, but to no avail. Estel merely sagged limply in their arms. It had been a long time since the twins had ever seen their father at a loss, and this perhaps frightened them more than anything else.

At last the elf lord forced himself to speak, "Go get Mithrandir, he may know of something I have not yet-" The sound of hurried running and a door being hastily thrown open stopped his panicked order. He turned to see his daughter and the wizard's hobbit friend standing in the doorway.

Arwen looked and felt as though she might faint. Estel always came home with some sort of illness or injury, but he had always pulled through. Once more, she was reminded harshly that he was not elfkind. Surprisingly, it was Bilbo who suggested another treatment, "Elladan, run off and find some egg shells—Lord Elrond, Elrohir, Arwen, you try to wake him up."

"What are you going to do," Elrond asked, ready to try almost anything as he felt the life drain from his foster son.

"Someone once did it to a relative of mine when she was much like young Aragorn here. You pour crushed egg shells down their throat, and they'll get a coughing spell like you wouldn't believe! It'll clear out his lungs."

Grasping on to the dim hope, the elves got Estel to his feet once more as Elladan returned to the room carrying a cupful of egg shells, followed by a worried wizard and Legolas. The situation would have been funny under different circumstances, an elf lord taking orders from a hobbit.

"Now, slap him, hard!"

Elrond did as he was told and the ranger's eyes opened ever so slightly as he flinched. It was clear he was trying to breath and was quite panicked when he found he could not. The ranger couldn't explain his feeling. It was a though he was hovering in a pool of water between the past and a future that could be. Ahead was a light that came closer and closer. The peace it radiated made him want it to envelope him. Suddenly pain exploded in his mind. He could feel again, and he felt as though he was drowning. His lungs felt heavy and screamed for air.

Obediently, Elladan poured the entire cupful of eggshells down Estel's throat. After a moment, they sighed with relief when he began to cough. Elrond laid him across the bed and Arwen herself supported his head as it hung over the side of the bed. Legolas turned away as vile mucous spewed from his friend's mouth. The minutes ticked by and slowly, the room became silent again. Everyone waited anxiously for Aragorn to take his first breath in several minutes. Their hopes rose when they heard a faint rasp, but plummeted when after that they heard nothing.

Arwen paled, "Estel! Breath! You've shown us you are strong, don't give up now!"

"I believe I can be of some help here," a gruff voice said gently. Everyone in the room was astonished when Gandalf knelt and blew air into the ranger's oxygen deprived body. Aragorn's chest began to slowly rise and fall.

At last the wizard stood again, sighing with relief and weariness when the heir of Gondor at last breathed on his own. Elrond sagged against the wall and told the wizard hoarsely, "You have done what I could not. I should have known what to do. He came so close…"

Arwen put an arm around her father's shaking shoulders and guided him toward the door.

"I've never seen him like that. Not even when mother left." Elrohir spoke up, shaken.

"Will Aragorn be alright now, Gandalf?" This came from the hobbit everyone had forgotten.

Surprisingly it was Legolas who answered, "Aragorn is strong-that much he has proven. The effects of the orc poison will wear off with the help of herbs, and if we watch him closely, he should have no more trouble breathing."

The occupants of the room flinched at his understatement.

The next hours were spent keeping the ranger's fever down and forcing a bitter herbal tea down his throat. They worked as a team, covering his body with cold rags, turning him on his side so his lungs could clear, changing the dressing on his wound. Only the twins were left in the room when he at last began to stir. His gray eyes failed to focus on the elven face hovering over him.

"Welcome back, brother, you gave us quite a scare."

"Elrohir, you always say that!" Aragorn was surprised at the hoarseness of his voice and tried to sit up. Pain lanced across his chest and stopped him. His struggle to remain conscious soon became fruitless.

The twins sighed. It was always like this-they always had to wait several days before Estel was up to talking. This time, they suspected, it might be even longer. Elladan was worried, this time, not only for Estel, but for his father as well. Their brother wasn't the only person who needed healing.


	10. Cold and an Empty Bed

Chapter Ten-Cold and an Empty Bed

Estel woke late that night, disoriented and confused. Where was he? Who was the blond elf staring at the fire beside him. After much difficulty concentrating, he recalled that it was Legolas, the Elven prince he had met near the Shire. Gazing around him he was relieved to find his surroundings familiar, and he realized with an embarrassed kind of horror that once again, he was sick. Very sick, he gathered from the rattling in his chest. Memories came flooding back and he remembered the rain, and an urgent horse ride home.

He shivered involuntarily and realized with surprise that he was cold, despite the fact that he was covered with three heavy blankets and that a fire roared warmly from the hearth. His elven friends wouldn't expect him to feel cold. They wouldn't notice if the room was overheated or chilled, even.

Sitting up perhaps too quickly, he was forced to take several deep breathes before he was able to rise and go in search of another blanket, and perhaps something warm to drink as well. Shakily, the frustrated human made his way down the corridor, clinging to the railings when they were present. At last he located the ever familiar linen closet. Exhausted, he slid to the cold floor, vowing to get up in a few moments when his breath returned. Soon he was shivering into a restless sleep.

* * *

Legolas snapped out of an uncharacteristic daze to find the fire dying and the bed empty. Half panicked, he rushed off to wake Lord Elrond, who joined him worriedly in his search. "Where could he be?" Elrond murmured before turning on Legolas and questioning him sharply, "You heard nothing?"

Legolas shook his head woefully. A frightened Arwen heard their voices from her chamber and drew her robe around her while asking her father urgently, "What is the matter? Why are you wandering the corridors at this hour?"

The elf lord's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, "Estel is not in his bed. We don't know where he has gone."

Arwen gasped softly, "Oh no! We must find him. It's too chilly for him to be out of bed! I'll go get some blankets. He'll be cold when we find him. I do hope he hasn't gone out of doors-you know how he is about his horse." She stopped speaking when she realized she was rambling.

Elrond smiled tightly, "That is a good idea, though I suspect he will need more than blankets to warm him. He was so weak...I don't even see how he managed to get out of bed."

Arwen squeezed her father's arm, "He is strong. Even an elf would be too frail to rise from bed before fully recovering." Giving Legolas a look of reassurance as well, she practically ran down the corridor to retrieve the blankets.

Imagine her surprise when she opened the door to the linen closet to find Estel asleep on the floor. Kneeling down to check on him, she was startled by the contrast between his frozen fingertips and burning body. Rather clumsily, she jerked several neatly folded blankets from their place on the shelf. After trying fruitlessly to rouse or lift him, Arwen tucked the blankets around his shivering form and rushed off to find her father and Legolas.

It took her a moment to calm herself before she could speak clearly, "I found him father…in the linen closet…he's so cold…"

"Show me!" Elrond commanded, already dashing down the corridor in the direction his daughter had come. Legolas lingered only a little farther behind. He would never forgive himself if Aragorn died because of his failure to be alert.

Elrond carried the limp form of his son back to his room and laid him on the rug as close to the hearth as he dared. He was surprised when Estel opened his eyes and couldn't restrain himself from asking gently, "Estel, why were you out of bed?"

"Wanted blanket," A drowsy and almost childlike Estel replied, prompting the three other inhabitants of the room to shake their heads and cover smiles.

The elf lord's knees went weak with relief. For the first time since the ordeal began, he knew his son would be alright.


	11. On the Mend

Chapter 11—On the Mend

Estel was banished to his bed following the linen closet incident. This time Legolas was much more watchful. The shadow in his mind was lifting, but Aragorn's health might not recover from another setback. So he sat, studying the young man. He didn't understand why he, an immortal, could so easily relate to so young a person. Normally, he felt that mortals were like children. Having seen all he'd seen in his hundreds of years, it was usually quite difficult to relate. Not so with Estel. Even so, it was difficult to pursue a friendship with a mortal, knowing that the day would soon come that they would depart from this world. It was easier to withdraw and be spared the pain. Yet Arwen, and even Elrond were willing to risk friendship and love, knowing that they would be parted one day. He, unlike most of his kind, would need to forget his past and treat his Numenorian friend as his equal.

* * *

The next morning, Estel was able to sit up in bed and was coherent enough to take stock of his condition. He felt frail and thin, which would of course cause even more distinction between he and his elvish family. Sipping his tea, he quipped, "So, Legolas, my new friend, how do I look?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow, "Terrible—but better. For a while, we thought you were lost to us, so I can't penalize you for dark circles under the eyes. Of course, Lord Elrond may never let you go hunting alone again."

Aragorn groaned as his father entered, having clearly been eavesdropping, "No, I shall not. Not until I've been given ample time to recover from the ordeal you've put me through." There was a glint of humor in his eye. "I'm very relived you became acquainted with the young prince of Mirkwood here when you did. Now, how are you feeling?"

"Just a bit sore, and quite ready for something aside from tea and lembas bread."

Elrond chuckled. His son was on the mend. Pushing his dark, immortal thoughts from his mind, he decided to focus on one thing: today, his son would live.

* * *

A/N: Please forgive the 8, almost 9 year time difference between start to finish. I hope you enjoyed, and that the new revision made for a more readable and enjoyable story. -LJ


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